


The Things I Do for You

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:43:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Root x Shaw Prompt: Root and Shaw get in an argument that starts getting heated and finally Shaw bursts out with 'Why did I ever think that cycling all the way across a city in a blackout for you was a good idea!' and Root leaps on it while Shaw backtracks quickly. 'For me?' 'For the mission. Bear. Not you. I didn't say that'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things I Do for You

_What the Hell._

It's the only thought in Sameen Shaw's head, and the only thing that travels faster than the wheels of her motorcycle. Borrowed motorcycle.  _Okay, 'borrowed without permission' motorcycle._

Sweat beads at her neck, and her breath causes a slight fog on the visor of her helmet. All around, the streets are pitch black. No television screens glow from high windows, and no blinding store entrances blast cool air onto the streets as late night shoppers pass by. Even the street lights are out; the city too prideful for generators and too broke for solar panels. In fact, all of Fifth Avenue is as desolate as a ghost town and hot as Dante's Inferno.

It's a black out- the second one in a month. Even though it was meant to be a cold month, two heat waves wracked the city, all but destroying the transporters and frying anything electronic. It's November, yet the weather is fit for shorts and swimming pools.

Shaw herself sports a black tank top, the wind that grabs ahold of her as she speeds between scarce cars leaving a warm breeze against her body. Still, it is not enough to make her forget the heat.

* * *

 

After a while of driving and swearing under her breath, Shaw pulls off the road, cutting the headlight and allowing the engine to die. Taking off her helmet, Shaw rolls her neck in a slow circle. Feeling her ponytail peel from the back of her neck, a scowl twitches onto her lips, hating the sticky humidity that suffocates her.

The darkness consumes her from all sides, and she takes careful steps down a pitch black alley. Her heels catch in gaps between bricks a few times; but for the most part, she makes it without fault.

 _This is all Root's fault_ , Shaw mutters to herself, yanking a small flashlight from her back pocket. The batteries are dead and won't last more than a few minutes, but it will be enough. She thinks about where she was a half hour ago.

After taking a cold shower in the dark, Shaw sat down at her kitchen table, the contents of the fridge before her. Knowing it wouldn't last more than a few hours without the cold, Shaw set to having a late dinner of assorted everything, all the while listening to a crank radio she'd dug out of the back of her closet. Cracking open the lid on a bottle of milk, her phone began to ring.

Before she'd had time to make even a snarky greeting, Root gave her an address, telling her to get there as soon as possible. Shaw wanted to ask why, but her phone died before she had the chance. Trashing her meal and throwing the phone with it for good measure, Shaw bolted out the door. With the help of a subway station's free map selection and a motorcycle dealership across the street, Shaw was on her way.

 _To what?_  She has no clue.  _For what?_ She has no idea.

Clicking the flashlight on, Shaw scans the alley walls for a door. To her dismay, she doesn't find one. Unravelling the flimsy map from her pocket, she points the sorry excuse of a light at it, squinting to make out the small words.  _It should be here... so, where is it?_

Taking a step forward, her foot connects with something metallic, and she stumbles. The ground below her echoes hollowly as she fights to regain her balance. Steadying herself, she points the flashlight down at her feet. There, she finds storm cellar doors with the the numbers stamped into the side.

_______\ Person of Interest /_______

"Look who made it," Root's voice floats over to Shaw from the top of the rickety wooden staircase. Gazing around, Shaw finds her seated on a couch coated with eight centuries of dust, laptop in hand. Dim lights bathe the small cellar in a pale yellow, throwing shadows the size of skyscrapers along the walls; and a generator hums in the background. At first glance, Shaw finds nothing out of the ordinary.

_Why am I here?_

"There some sort of number we've got to work on?" Shaw asks slowly, coming down the staircase and starting towards the sofa. Root, looking up from her screen, shakes her head.

"Are Reese and Finch in trouble?" Again, Root shakes her head. Annoyance flaring, Shaw folds her arms, sharp gaze sending daggers into Root's skull. "Then why am I  _here_?"

"Thought you might want some electricity," Root replies casually, focusing back down on the computer screen. Shaw's lip curls into a sneer, fingers balling into tight fists as she thinks of the one a.m. bike ride across Manhattan.

"So there's absolutely  _no reason_  for me to be here," Shaw says bluntly, catching Root's attention. She shuts the laptop with a delicate touch before placing it on the armrest beside her.

"If you don't count being able to spend the night with  _me_ ," Root responds playfully; Shaw doesn't take the bait.

"Believe me," she snarls venomously, "I  _don't_." The kindness in Root's eyes falters, something hurt surfacing in them. Shaw is too exhausted and heat sick to care. Root blinks a few times, and her upbeat disposition returns.

"What's got  _you_  so annoyed?" Root asks, leaning forward and grabbing both of Shaw's hands in hers. The touch shoots electricity up Shaw's arms and through her chest, yet she won't let it show. Something in Shaw has soured more than the quart of milk she tossed in the trash before coming here, and it leaves her mood stubbornly rotten. Even the smile Root wears has a lesser effect on Shaw, who can only think of how she could be in bed right now.

"You," Shaw answers without tact, eyes hardening. "What? Do you have  _nothing_  better to do at two in the morning? You just  _sit_  in someone's cellar and make house calls when you feel like it?" Root's smile falls, eyes becoming serious as she stands. A flash of indignation crosses her eyes, not looking away from Shaw. To Shaw's own vexation, she's forced to tilt her head back to look Root in the eye. Almost no space is between them, and a growing fluster only adds fuel to the furious fire raging within her.

"I didn't think inviting you over would be so  _harmful_ ," Root responds. At first thought, it sounds neutral, yet frost grows more evident as she continues. "I've got lights, air, and privacy. Just thought I'd  _share_."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have," Shaw snaps. "Coming here was a waste of time, and I'm going home." Pushing away from Root, she wrenches her hands away more forcefully than she has to. Even in that small span of time, the overwhelming heat of the city brought an unpleasant clamminess to her hands. As she turns back for the door, part of her knows the raging temperature is to blame for her overly cranky mood. Still, she can't help but place the blame on Root.  _I drop everything I'm doing_ , Shaw grumbles to herself,  _and it's not even an emergency_. Her secret worry from before has evaporated entirely, leaving only irritable fatigue behind.

There is a sputter as the lights flicker, then everything goes black. The roar of the generator softens to a purr, then putts out entirely. An unearthly silence falls over them as everything that ran in the background dies. Shaw takes a blind step forward, only to stumble over something on the ground. It clatters out of the way with a sound rivaling sonic booms, and Shaw's muscles coil tightly.

"Was that necessary?" Shaw seethes, voice low and dangerous.

"I didn't  _do_  anything," Root retorts, voice stiff. Shaw clenches her teeth.

"Let me  _guess_ ," Shaw responds with a mock-chipper tone. "You waltzed in here and didn't even  _check_  the generator's fuel level?" Condescension drips from her every word, enough to leave a sharp tear in Root's ego.

"Because the day can't be complete without you blaming  _something_  on me, right?" Root spits back, and Shaw's shoulders go rigid. "Doesn't matter anyway," Root continues before Shaw has a chance to speak. "If you're going, there's no point in my sticking around either."

"After all that; you're just packing up," Shaw mutters.

"After all  _what_?" Root responds, voice rising. "All I did was  _invite_  you here. I never told you it was urgent. I never said anything  _exciting_  was waiting. I just gave you an address."

"Well, maybe you coulda told me that  _before_  hand," Shaw shoots back, own voice booming in her ears.

"I would of if you hadn't hung up on me!"

"It  _died_!" Shaw bellows back, loathing everything in this moment. Her blood is boiling and smoke billows out of her ears. There is fire in her eyes and an arsenal on her tongue.

"And  _that_ ," Root responds, a frustrated laugh tinging her words. "Is  _not_  my problem."

" _God_ ," Shaw hisses, striking her arm out straight ahead. It swipes through air, missing any wall or piece of furniture she thought might be waiting. Her anger mounts. "Why did I  _ever_  think that cycling all the way across the city in a blackout for you was a  _good_  idea."

Silence.

"For me?" Root questions, all of her previous anger disappearing. Shaw bites her tongue, scolding herself for the slip.

"For the  _mission_ ," Shaw corrects. The floor creaks from somewhere just behind her, and she turns, instantly feeling a presence there.

"There  _is_  no mission," Root responds, voice much closer than Shaw anticipated. She takes a step back, Root matching it with one forward.

"I  _thought_  there  _would_  be one," Shaw responds, the words strung together in an impromptu jumble. She takes another step back; Root takes another step forward. "For Bear," Shaw blurts, the only thing that comes to her head.

Root laughs, the melodic sound like chimes in the breeze, and Shaw's throat gets tight. Shaw brings her hands just behind her back, palms facing out, fingers reaching for anything she might bump into as she begins to walk backwards. The more she moves away, the more Root advances. Shaw's heart starts to beat against her ribcage, breath coming faster as her mind races in circles, trying in vain to back track.

" _Not_  for you."

Shaw's fingers brush against something cool. It's rough like cement, and Shaw realizes with dread that she's backed directly into a wall. Still, her body continues in reverse until her entire back is pressed against it, head hitting it with a soft thump.

" _Really_?" Root responds, voice teasing as it grows ever closer. "Because it sounded a  _lot_  like you said for  _me_."

"I didn't  _say_  that," Shaw demands, clenching her jaw as her nerves race along a roller coaster. Up and down, side to side, they swish like soda shaken, just waiting for the cap to twist off.

Root's hand rests at the side of Shaw's head; Shaw's hair begins to stand on end at its close proximity. She can see nothing- not even an inch in front of her face- yet she knows Root is just before her. Half a foot, maybe less.

"Were you  _worried_  about me, Sam?" Root asks, smug voice surrounding Shaw from all sides as Root's breath intoxicates her. Shaw bites her lip, forcing herself to remain collected.

"No," Shaw lies, suddenly wanting the lights to return.  _I just need to see_ , Shaw thinks to herself, words a nervous tick in her head.  _So I can get out of here, or see what she's doing, or..._

" _Bummer_ ," Root sighs before resting her forehead on Shaw's. Shaw holds her breath, stomach tightening as her heart bursts from her chest. Her nerves bounce and clash into one another, leaving her entire body jittering. Her throat feels tight; she clears it.

"You know," Shaw says, voice little more than a whisper. " _I_ was in the middle of storming out, and  _you_  were about to leave." Blood rushes in Shaw's head, nearly drowning out her own voice in the roar.

There's a second of silence where Shaw swears Root is smiling; then, Root moves once more, forehead leaving Shaw's as her mouth brushes against Shaw's ear. Shaw struggles in vain not to shudder.

"I've got some time," Root tells her, words less than a breath that tickles Shaw's ear. Shaw's lips crack into a small smile, one she's glad Root is unable to see.

"Me too."


End file.
